


York's Eulogy

by agent_florida



Series: cadmiumahoy series [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>York eulogizes his testicles in an internal monologue, because he knows that between Wash and NC he’s probably going to lose them both soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	York's Eulogy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Evil Scheme, Take Two.](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15303) by cadmiumahoy. 



There was one point in my life at which I swore that a man without his tackle was no man at all. I now know how very wrong I was. To my younger self, I envy you your naivete.  
  
Jack and Harry were congenial fellows – always there for me in a pinch. Why, I remember all the fun I had with those boys. It all started at twelve, the first year I had hair Down There, and whoo boy, the first time they showed me what they could do, I thought I’d died from the pleasure.  
  
Of course, not every time hanging with them was quite so good as that. Multiple kicks to the ‘nads throughout my teen years ensured that I never took my jewels for granted. There was no greater pain, just as there was no greater pleasure. Bicycles, tight pants, catwalk stumbles… everything seemed to conspire against them.  
  
But they pulled it together – sometimes literally – and we all lived to fight another day. And oh, did we fight some glorious battles. They’ve shepherded me too many places to count… well, I could count, but I’d be here for a while. Let’s just say it started with Gina Riversmith and ended with Wash.  
  
Holy shit, Wash. Did it ever end with him. My boys have blown their load on probably every conceivable spot on his body. My jizz has been running through the part in his hair, dripping from the ends of his hair, in his eyes (both of them at once, still don’t know how I managed that), up the back of his nose, down the back of his throat, inside his left ear, around the base of his throat, in the middle of his chest, on both nipples in one try, in his right armpit, in the crease of his left elbow, on the palms and between the fingers of both his hands, in that trail of hair going from his navel to his cock, on his hipbone, inside his anal cavity, various places between and including his shoulders and his ass, on his taint, coating his ballsack, on his cock, down his legs, on the inside of his left knee, the soles of both his feet at once… And that’s just the spots I remember doing  _sober_ , God knows what I did to him drunk.  
  
But alas, those days of carefree joy are gone forever, and all because the target of my aforementioned jizz-flinging got a little protective of some sensitive information which I may or may not have leaked to NC in a moment of weakness. After many threats and several attempts at blackmail, I had blue balls for, like, 24 hours straight, which would really make  _anyone_  more than a little cranky.  
  
And that was when the old huevos kicked the bucket. Harry was the first to go, the victim of an unfortunate but ultimately deliberate (and vicious) bite during a blowie from NC. The bitch wouldn’t even let me have a dignified death by bleeding out; she patched me up, put me on loopy painkillers, and sent me back to Wash to explain what had happened. At that point, Wash decided it was high time that Jack met his end through a well-constructed ceiling fan ‘accident.’  
  
The pain. Oh, God, the pain. It’s the number one reason why I’m glad they’re gone. No more kicks to the groin from Wash trying to put me in my place. No more uncomfortable cardio workouts on those awful bike seats.  
  
But at the same time, I can no longer engage in my favorite hobby of creating cum-paintings on my human canvas. There are no longer any loads to blow, even though my cock was spared for the purpose of sodomizing Wash on command.  
  
So basically, what I’m saying is, I miss those fuckers. Rest in peace, boys. And if there really is a Ballsack Heaven, I hope to God you’re using your talents to coat other passed testicles with a thick coating of semen. Good night, sweet princes, and flocks of cocks sing thee to thy rest.


End file.
